A Gift to Her Love
by Bald as Malak
Summary: The Exile has been working on a special present for the past 24 hours, but she didn't say who it was for. The two most likely candidates are determined to find out.


**A GIFT TO HER LOVE**

**On the Ebon Hawk, just before the Galactic New Year**

_What is she making?_ Atton wondered, as he contemplated the closed workshop door. Behind it, he could hear the sound of a drill being used, and the occasional muttering of the Exile. Just before locking herself in the room yesterday morning, she had muttered something about making a gift for "someone special."

Atton was sure that the gift was for him. How could it not be? Ever since she had walked into that detention room on Peragus, he had wanted her, lusted after her like he had for no other. He _loved_ her. Surely, she could see how much she meant to him?

"Is she working on that gift?" Atton turned to regard Mical, the Disciple. Even now, though it was the middle of the night shift, Disciple managed to look groomed and composed. Atton, on the other hand, looked like he had just woken up, which was the farthest from the truth. Instead, he had been pacing back and forth between the ship's kitchen, where he refilled his caffa mug, and this door.

The only thing that made being locked out bearable was the fact that Disciple had also been locked out. _The man just bothers the hell out of me_, Atton thought. The Disciple was always being considerate, helping out the Exile and the others in their various tasks. He smiled constantly, spoke politely to every one, and always seemed to know some bit of information about every topic that was being discussed. He was, in other words, eminently likeable, just the kind of competition Atton didn't like when going after a girl.

It wasn't that Atton lost many of the battles of seduction he had fought with the Disciples of the galaxy. Atton counted it as a point of pride that he had swept many a humanoid woman—human, Twi'lek, and otherwise—off their feet despite the obsequious "nice" guys who seemed to hover over every attractive, non-purchasable woman.

_Well,_ Atton thought when it became clear that Disciple wasn't going away again, _there's no way that I'm leaving him here alone when she could walk out of that room in any second. _Giving Disciple a sour look, Atton looked around for a place to sit. After a few mental calculations, he chose his spot and sat down, leaning his back against the cold metal wall of the ship. Lighting a cigarra, Atton resolved to just ignore his "righteous and gallant" competitor.

Disciple sat down in the only other comfortable spot in the area. As Atton had known, it was downwind of his spot. He took another long drag on his cigarra and then exhaled. Atton let loose a lazy grin when Disciple lightly coughed on the smoke. That grin slowly faded when he realized that Disciple wasn't going to take a hint.

"I know we both want to date her, Atton," Disciple droned in his oh-so-pleasant voice, "but there must be a way for us to get along and still compete for her hand."

Atton couldn't believe what Disciple was saying. With an audible groan, he buried his head in his hands. _Why can't he just go away!_

---

As Mical waited for Atton to respond, he thought about the Exile. She was beautiful to him. Her blue eyes were always bright and smiling, complementing her shocking almost-white hair and pale skin. She seemed able to connect with everyone and, as far as Mical could tell, got along with each person equally. That was one of the things he really loved about her.

It was only after several weeks that Mical came to realize that Atton was treating Mical as a competitor for the Exile's affections. It was true that Mical wouldn't have turned down an opportunity to be with the Exile, but the possibility of such an union had always seemed remote to Mical until that point. Mical knew he was generally awkward around women. Generally, they always wanted to be "friends" with him. Some had been frank with him, telling him that they found him too polite and "nice." From those experiences, and from watching other couples form and break apart, Mical had come to realize that there was something about shallow, irresponsible men like Atton that drew women irresistibly.

And so, knowing that Atton was such a man, Mical had initially assumed that one of two things would happen. One, the Exile would be swept away by Atton's predatory seduction or, two, being a Jedi, the Exile would be unavailable for any kind of romance. So whether or not Mical liked the Exile hadn't seem to matter.

Atton's jealousy had changed that assumption.

So now, here he was, outside the garage door with Atton, wondering what the Exile was doing in the garage and why she had locked everyone out of it.

---

"Date!" Atton snorted, "I haven't been on one of those since I went out with one of my teachers in the last year of compulsory education."

"So you just want to bed her?" Disciple said, his voice unusually sharp. "That's not very…"

"Noble of me?" Atton interrupted with another snort. "Get a grip, you gizka. If I just wanted a lay, we would be on our way to Nar Shaddaa right now. No, I want the Exile, but it's not for dating. What I'm looking for, it's the whole woman."

"And why would dating not be conducive to knowing the 'whole woman?'"

Shaking his head, Atton turned to look at the innocent young man for a moment, before returning to his perusal of the opposite wall. "Dating is for awkward conversation. It's about playing nice, dressing up like dolls, and wondering how long it will be before you can start getting to some more interesting activities." Atton paused then, but he could feel Disciple's eyes on him, urgent and questioning. "Sith's blood." Against his better judgment, Atton continued. _This is something every man ought to know, even Disciple._

"Look, in the end women want what we want. They want to laugh, tell dirty jokes, and press some flesh, sometimes in public places. Like us, they want to light up the old ion engine and see where the journey takes them. You know what I mean?" Atton finished, turning his crooked smile at Disciple.

Disciple's face was serious, as if he was painfully processing each word of what Atton had been saying. "But I like a serious conversation, good food and wine, a nice walk along the sea. Dating is not so bad."

"Oh sure, women eat that stuff up. It's the whole awkward fear thing that mucks it up. The pitiful spectacle of two people sitting there hoping that the other will do or say something so that they can just relax and have some fun."

"And how do you get past that point?" Disciple asked, his voice slow and intense.

"Well now, my blond friend," Atton said with a barking laugh, "that is a trade secret and there's no way I'm telling you. Why don't you go practice on someone else and then if you get it, come find the Exile and me on Nar Shaddaa." Turning away from Disciple, Atton returned his attention to his cigarra. _Atton, you must be getting soft to tell him even that much. Still, there is no way a stiff neck like Disciple will ever figure it out the rest._

---

Mical contemplated the words of Atton and compared them to what Mical had learned from watching other Republic officers trying to win women. _Perhaps Atton is right_, Mical thought, as he tabulated what those officers had done and then compared those actions with their success rate. _There is a marked correlation between success and the display of confidence in one's own attractiveness. _Mical pondered this idea as Atton finished one cigarra and started another.

_Could I do that? Could I be that confident and assertive? Could I go after what I want so boldly? _Mical wasn't sure he could pull it off, but he realized that he certainly wanted to try.

---

_She's so hard to read_, Atton thought as the minutes passed by. Despite the bravado he had shown to the Disciple (which was Rule number 3 when it came to competing for a woman), Atton couldn't tell what impact his advances were having on the Exile. Without that feedback, he couldn't adjust and refine his strategy as he had with the other hard-to-get women he had lured into his bed. Frankly, he was feeling a bit at a loss. The only thing that kept him going was his strength of his attraction to the Exile. _And there's no way I'm going to lose to Disciple!_

Atton started when the door to the workshop opened. As he quickly got up, he realized that his actions were being mirrored by Mical. _What a sorry day it is_, Atton grumbled silently, _when I'm caught sleeping in a hallway besides Disciple while a pretty girl is behind a locked door. _

The Exile glanced back and forth between the two men for a moment, and then walked off, chuckling to herself. Atton watched her walk away until she turned the corner and then started to move into the workshop to see what she had been working on. Before he could get close, the door slammed close. Testing it, Atton found that it was locked again. He started to punch in the standard codes, and then groaned when Disciple spoke.

"Do you think you should be doing that? If she locked it, it means that she wants us to stay out."

_Dammit! When the Jedi sucked the life out of their Padawans, this guy lined up a second time._ "Yeah, yeah. Come on, you must admit you are curious."

To Atton's surprise, the conflict in Disciple was obvious, playing across his face like the scenes of a classic battle.

---

Mical couldn't believe that he was considering Atton's suggestion. Everything that he had been taught argued against looking inside that room, but his attraction to the Exile, and his desire to know where he stood, seemed to make all that conditioning irrelevant. _Atton's right_, Mical thought, _sometimes you just have to know what you want and go get it._

Ignoring the look of almost comic shock on Atton's face, Mical pushed by Atton and completed keying in the regular code for the room.

"It isn't working."

"Let me look at that."

While Mical wasn't an expert at locks and their circumvention, he wasn't willing to give way to Atton either. Ignoring Atton's pulling arms, Mical closed his eyes and probed the lock with his new Force senses.

"She's put a bar across the door."

"What?" Atton held up his hand. "No blondie, don't answer." Atton closed his eyes for a few moments. "You're right. There's also some kind of clamp holding the bar in place. Let's see if I can move it." After a few moments, Atton let out a long sigh. "She's clever for a Jedi. She's set up some kind of mechanism so that requires me to hold the bar up at the same time I undo the clamp. I'm not good enough with this Force stuff to do that." Shaking his head, Atton turned towards the male sleeping quarters.

Now that Mical had taken a step towards the furtive path, he wasn't ready to give it up yet. "Hold on second, Atton. Let's work together on this. If I hold the bar up, could you undo the clamp?"

Atton raised his eyebrow up as he considered Mical for a long moment. "Treading some new ground, aren't we Disciple? Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." Mical wasn't, not really, but he couldn't back out now, not when Atton was looking so smug.

"Okay, let's see where the crew is then." Atton's eyes went blank for a moment, and then he nodded. "Everyone is sleeping right now. Even the Exile has just settled down. Well, except for the droids but they're in the control room. Okay, let's do it."

Mical reached out with his Force until he felt the bar. Gently lifting it, he waited for Atton to unscrew the clamp. It seemed to take a long while, and Mical could feel the sweat start to bead on his brow. Mical opened his mouth to make a comment, though he wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he heard a click and then the clamp was off. Very gently, Mical lowered the bar to floor on the right of the door.

Opening his eyes, he saw Atton open the door and step quickly into the room. Before Atton could close it, Mical pushed lightly on the door with his Force, causing Atton, who had his hand on it to stumble. Taking advantage of the moment, Mical dashed towards the workbench, where an arm-length object of some sort was covered by a tarp. Before he could get there, Atton tackled him to the floor.

_While I like to be nice, there are times when a more forceful approach is necessary_, Mical thought. Wrestling a leg free, Mical tried to kick Atton in the face.

---

Atton couldn't believe that Disciple was fighting back. When Disciple's foot came at his face, he grabbed it and twisted. Atton started to smile as he used the hold to turn Disciple's body face-down, but then his head was pulled hard into the floor by Disciple's Force.

"Skrag that," Atton swore, reaching out with his own Force to stun Disciple. As Disciple lay there motionless, Atton scrambled up and jumped over Mical's prone body, only to stumble over his outstretched arm.

_That hit to my head must have been harder than I thought_, Atton reflected as he tumbled to the floor. Not willing to give up, he started crawling towards the box, but then he felt Disciple's hands grab his legs. As Mical had before, Atton freed a boot and prepared to kick Disciple, only to freeze when he heard the whirring sound of T3-M4's wheels in the hallway outside.

---

After sharing a quick look with Atton, Mical closed the door with his Force while Atton used it to create a small sound that distracted T3-M4. When it became apparent that their ploy had been successful, Mical and Atton let out a long breath, each eyeing the other to make sure he didn't make a sudden move.

"Look, Atton, whatever is underneath that tarp has got to be for one of us. Let's just go see what it is and then we'll see who she cares for, okay?"

Atton snorted, then swept his arm towards the workbench, bowing as Mical had that day on Dantooine. They walked over together and then, after a brief pause, lifted the covering gently together. Underneath was a small, locked, wooden box with an inscription on it. Putting the cloth gently on the floor behind them, the two men bent to peruse the prize.

---

"For my loving genius." Atton read, "A treasure awaits you. Unlock my secrets and what I have shall be yours." Atton felt joy rise within him. "Well, blondie, it's obvious. She must have meant this for me, because you certainly can't pick a Czerka Keymaster 2000 lock and I don't think Mira's her type."

Disciple looked crestfallen, but there was nothing he could do as Atton used his tools to ply open the lock. With a final smug glance at Disciple, Atton opened the box.

"Sith's nuts!" Atton swore, and then swore again when Disciple pushed his head under Atton's arm to look in the box. Inside, there was another box, this time made of Cannock bone. Unlike the opened box, this one had no apparent lock. Instead, there was another inscription on the top of it.

_"I never was, am always to be,  
No one ever saw me, nor ever will  
And yet I am the confidence of all  
To live and breathe on this terrestrial ball."_

---

"What could that mean?" breathed Mical. He glanced at Atton, whose brows were furrowed so deeply, they almost touched each other. Mical could almost hear Atton thinking, _There is no way he's going to get that riddle first_.

_The Exile knows that this kind of puzzle is my forte, _Mical thought, and for the first time he felt a stir of confidence and hope. _Don't get over-confident, or you'll lose your chance_, he reprimanded himself.

Rather than trying to guess at answers, Mical simply closed his eyes and repeated the riddle to himself continuously, waiting for the answer to bubble up from his mind. And there it was.

"Tomorrow," Mical said, his voice firmer than it had ever been. When the box clicked open, Atton cursed like… _Well like Atton_, Mical thought.

Reverently, hesitantly, Atton and Mical reached out together to open the box. When they saw what was inside the box, their faces went white with horror. Backing away from the worktable, the two men didn't say a word. Only when they reached the back of the room, and bumped into its wall, did they snap out of their stupor. Without a word, the two opened the door and made their way to their sleeping quarters.

---

"Respectful request: Master, please wake up."

"Mmm…, HK, what is it?"

"Shocked admission: You were right, Master, about everything. That was as satisfying as a long distance sniper shot using a modified Mandalorian blaster rifle. Admiring declaration: Truly, you are a match for Revan's genius."

"Did you get the holovideo?" the Exile asked, chuckling to herself as she got dressed.

"Confirmation: Every moment, Master. The cameras you set up were perfectly placed to capture all the action."

"Great, gather the rest of the crew will you, but let Atton and Mical sleep. They will need their strength for tomorrow."

"Acknowledgement: As you please Master. Query: I must ask. What was in the box?"

"You don't want to know, HK. It might overload your circuits."

HK let out the sigh of the long-suffering, and then left the room. As the Exile tied up her hair, she remembered the laughter Mira, Bao-Dur and she had shared a week ago, when they had taken the pictures of themselves naked—save for a strategically placed bed sheet—and intertwined on a Nar Shaddaa "love hotel" bed. Written under the photo was, "To the only one with the mind and hands to unlock this box, and our hearts. M & E."

The Exile had caught Mira and Bao-Dur at the Nar Shaddaa hotel that night. When she walked in, Mira was dancing, almost naked, while hanging her leather pants on one of Bao-Dur's horns. Her jacket and shirt hung also hung from the head spikes of the Zabrak, whose face, until the Exile entered, had been plastered with a horn-to-horn grin.

They had pleaded with her not to tell the others. The Exile had agreed under one condition, and so her plot had been born.

"Besides," the Exile had told them while HK took the holo-pictures, "now no one will ever believe that the you two are actually up to something."

Still chuckling as she replayed the events of that day in her mind, the Exile grabbed the snacks she had prepared for this event. _The others will certainly enjoy this gift.  
_

"Come on Visas, you will enjoy this holo-video. Kreia, you too." Though Kreia protested, the Exile was adamant. "Even you will like this. Trust me, this will be better than any gift you have received in a long time." As she hustled the two ladies into the holo-projector room, the Exile waved to the sleepy figures of Bao-Dur and Mandalore.

As everyone settled down, the Exile laughed softly to herself. "Maybe now I'll get some peace and quiet."


End file.
